


you are a work of (he)art

by hanryang



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, And running on sugar, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Huang Renjun is an artist and art himself, I Don't Even Know, I love him, I tried to be funny??, M/M, Minor Kang Seulgi/Lee Taeyong, Ofc Chenle's here, Park Jisung is so cute, Please love me???, Statues coming to life, Unspecified Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28472514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanryang/pseuds/hanryang
Summary: Jisung did not ask for this.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Park Jisung
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	you are a work of (he)art

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: There is a beautiful statue of a person in the middle of a large city, and the rumor surrounding the statue is that when they touch hands with their soulmate, they will become human. Naturally, it becomes a perfect photo and video opportunity to pose while holding its hand. One cute selfie attempt results in an empty statue podium and you just barely catching a very confused person in your arms.
> 
> I found the prompt in Pinterest and thought it’ll be cute. I didn’t edit this or proofread because I was too lazy and had a lot of things to do. I’m sorry. Beware of grammatical errors because English isn’t my first language but hey, at least I tried.
> 
> :DD 
> 
> Don't even read this. It's bad.

This is why Park Jisung shouldn't have gotten drunk—not even if it was his beloved boss' engagement party. If he thinks about it, it's all his Seulgi-noona's fault. If her "I'm going to remain single forever" ass hadn't proposed to Taeyong then Jisung wouldn't have gotten drunk at their engagement party. Yes, this is totally not Jisung's fault.

Not only did he lose an expensive ass shoe (his Johnny-hyung bought it for him on his nineteenth birthday and he's going to lose his head the moment he learns that he lost that limited edition Adidas) and basically any memory he had of the previous evening, but he woke up feeling like absolute shit—like the _I drank ten shots of vodka and vomited my innards at the party the night before_ kind of shit.

Jisung is not usually the type who'd get drunk. His mother set up a drinking limit for him and even though he's basically 23 with a full-time well-paying job as a CFO's personal assistant, he still follows his mum's orders as if he's still in kindergarten.

Only last night did he decide to get drunk and for a very good reason. Hey, it's not everyday your boss who has very serious commitment issues decides to get married.

Jisung groggily sits up and reaches for the bedside table, eyes still tightly closed. He always made sure to put some Advil to dry swallow within his reach whenever his head starts acting up like a bitch because of work.

The loud sound of glass breaking makes him fully awake in an instant. Jisung stares at the wet puddle on the floor next to his bed, shards of broken glass littering the floor. He had accidentally shoved the glass of water that sits atop his bedside table.

And within moments, there’s a stranger rushing into her bedroom at the sound of the commotion. He frantically asked what happened and Jisung could only gape. He lived alone, so why the hell is there another breathing and living human being inside his apartment?

And of course, just like any muddleheaded and slightly disoriented individual that is currently experiencing a bitchy hangover, Park Jisung screams.

And he also fell off his bed, hitting his head on the floor but not too hard to be concussion-inducing, still screaming.

It's a ghost—a really pretty, tiny, enchanting ghost. Jisung is sure of it.

The boy scrambles off the floor and ran to the living room like a headless chicken when the pretty ghost took steps towards him, yelling “Ghost! Ghost! Ghost! I need holy water!”

“Fu—!!” the curse almost flew out his mouth the loud voice of the reporter in the television cut him off. A picture of the familiar golden statue on display with the words in bold letters right below it— _Breaking News: Statue in the city’s central park had gone missing!_

Jisung gapes, staring at the picture of the statue that she had seen so many times on the television screen before dragging her eyes to the stranger a few feet away from her. Her eyes went from the picture on the television and then the infiltrator of her home then back on the television again and then back to the person.

He screams yet again.

───

Jisung thinks he’s going crazy. Twenty-three years old and he’s going crazy. Is this because of too much stress? He’s not even old yet! Is he imagining things? Is this some kind of fever dream? He drags his hand to his face and harshly pinches his cheeks with his nails. And the pain is very much real, because he immediately winces at the sensation.

“Are you okay?” the stranger asks, as he places a steaming cup of tea right in front of Jisung. Stressed, Jisung opens his mouth to say something but closes it again and rubs his face in frustration. The stranger can only smile at the boy's actions in amusement.

“I’m Renjun, by the way.”

“Oh my god, a statue is talking to me,” Jisung mumbles. “That’s it. I’m calling Chenle.”

His long-time best friend, Chenle arrives at his apartment in not less than fifteen minutes later. Chenle, to say the least, is surprised.

“Woah,” he lets out upon spotting Renjun. Jisung can’t really blame him.

“You can see him, too, right? I’m not the only one who can see him, right? That means I’m not going crazy, right?”

“Or maybe, we’re both going crazy.”

Jisung groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“I think we should call Seulgi-noona."

Jisung pauses before agreeing.

"Yeah, we should call her."

───

Fact: It’s almost one am. 12:53 am, to be precise.

Fact: Jisung is drunk out of his wits and could barely walk straight.

The twenty-something year old boy walked in just his socks—at some point of that night, he had lost his other shoe and he is too drunk to remember where it was—only the shine of the moon to keep him company. The city was quiet and the streets were empty and damp, because of the rain that fell earlier that evening. He had nothing but a dark trench coat (it’s not even his, probably his Taeyong-hyung’s or his Johnny-hyung's) to shield him against the chilly evening air.

Fact: He’s heading home right now—or at least, he hopes he's going the correct direction.

He could have just hailed a cab but tonight, Jisung figured he fancied a peaceful walk in the desolated streets in the city under the starlit sky. Work had been hell these past few weeks and he could barely catch breaks in between meetings and paperwork. He had been running on ninety-nine point nine percent caffeine and zero point one percent sleep these past few days.

Jisung stops when he comes face to face with the city park. And with a sigh, he allowed his feet to lead him. It’s 12:59 and YOLO swag. Let the boy have his fun.

He stops at the statue podium at the very center of the park—the famous “Tiny Dancer” golden statue standing proudly before him. Under the moonlight, the statue shone bright gold. Jisung finds himself staring, one word resonating inside his mind—beautiful, the epitome of art.

An imaginary lightbulb lights up above Jisung’s head as a random idea popped inside his brain. With slight difficulty (because it took him a few minutes to find his phone and he ends up laughing at himself because it had been in his palm this entire time), he poses in front of the statue. Yes, he’s taking a selfie.

It’s a millennial thing.

And Jisung places a hand on the statue’s open palm, like those couples in Instagram always do. Jisung has a nonexistent lover so he can’t do those things. Sorry Mr. Good-looking Statue but you’re the latest victim of Jisung’s Single Shenanigans™.

The statue was cold against his palm and he turns to his phone, smiling brightly at the front camera. He snapped photos here and there. Then the coldness beneath his palm turned into warmth—a warmth that made him think of home and he turns around.

It all happened too fast, his drunken brain can barely comprehend anything. One moment, he was snapping photos. The next was there’s a boy falling in his arms. He barely caught him in his arms without staggering down himself. This guy must be built like a twig. He’s so light that it’s unnerving.

Jisung's onyx orbs met with the stranger’s breathtaking doe eyes, and it stayed like that for a few seconds which felt like a thousand centuries. Jisung blinks once. Twice. Thrice.

“I……” the stranger begins, sounding breathless. “Put. Me. Down.”

And after that, Jisung promptly threw up. His face twists in disgust upon seeing the yellowish puddle of his stomach’s contents on the ground, and he coughs. The stranger softly pulled on his arm, carefully guiding him away from his own vomit to avoid an even bigger mess all the while rubbing his back in soothing circles.

Bless his soul.

───

Four of them (them being Chenle, Seulgi, Jisung, and Renjun) sit at Seulgi’s dining table. Chenle is staring at Renjun in something in between of confusion and fascination. Seulgi’s face basically just yells “what the fuck why did you call me at ass o’ clock?” And Renjun is sitting on his chair, hands bunched up together. Jisung, on the other hand, looks like he’s regretting his life choices.

“So……..” Chenle begins awkwardly. “You’re Renjun the statue.”

It wasn’t a question, yet, the statue—Renjun—nods.

“And you’re alive.”

At that, Renjun nods again.

Seulgi turns to Jisung. “Okay, tell me how you ended up in this predicament. Start to finish.”

Narrating the events to both Seulgi and Chenle was, to put it incredibly simply, hell. Let it be known to the world that Chenle doesn’t know how to listen to a story without interrupting you by exclaiming, laughing or both midway. He was shouting by the time he said “after I touched his hand, he just turned human and he fell” and laughing by “and I puked my guts out.” Renjun was the one who brought him safely back to his apartment (with much difficulty but he managed).

“And I just woke up and now, we’re here,” Jisung’s shoulders sagged a bit.

“He also thought I was a ghost,” Renjun adds, his voice small yet everyone in the room heard it clearly, and both Chenle and JSeulgi collectively snorted.

Jisung turns to Seulgi. “Noona, why is this happening?”

The older woman blinks.

“Well………” she drags. “How do I say this?”

Her mouth was set in a straight line and she looks like she’s contemplating.

“I think we should call Taeyong. He’d been on Renjun’s shoes so I think he’d know what to do.”

───

The city has a lot of beautiful statues—it’s something they take pride in. Many people visit the city to see such detailed and magnificent masterpieces. There was Irene, the epitome of classical beauty woman in the podium next to city’s museum. Jisoo, the goddess in the huge fountain located at the government center. Ten, the sculpture of a dancing boy in the street next to Seulgi’s workplace. And then, there’s Renjun—was Renjun—the tiny dancer who danced proudly in the middle of the central park beneath the sun and the moon. No one knew the name of the artist who crafted these beautiful people.

But there was a rumor, one that Jisung had heard of so many times before. When the statues touch hands with their soulmate, they will become human.

Another fact: That rumor is actually a fact. Renjun is proof enough.

Jisung came into that conclusion merely a few minutes ago when Taeyong had joined their little open forum (the golden band on his finger glimmered) and told them about the legends surrounding the city’s statues. No one tell Johnny but Taeyong is Jisung’s favorite hyung because Taeyong always seems to know how to solve all of Jisung’s problems.

“So what you’re trying to say is….” Chenle trails off.

Seulgi points at both Renjun and Jisung, dryly saying, “Congratulations, you two are soulmates.”

Jisung feels faint.

───

And years later, when Jisung is twenty-seven and living in a cozy apartment that smelled of acrylic and flowers, he remembers how he first met Renjun. Said man is now on the balcony, trying to finish a painting, his lips set in a firm line in concentration (how ironic, he is both an artist and art himself) and Jisung sighs like a smitten fool (he is smitten). The tabby cat on his lap purrs and Jisung smiles down at the furry creature.

“And that is how I met your mother.”

“Oh, you were telling her the story of how much of an absolute idiot you were back then?”

“Renjun-hyung!”

Moral lesson of the story: get drunk, take a selfie, be an idiot and have an amazing boyfriend in the end. It worked out amazingly well for Park Jisung.

**Author's Note:**

> thea, if ur reading this, i hate you lmao


End file.
